


It’s all about the heart(s)

by Hectatess



Series: Late-night Discord plot-bunnies [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Gore, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:25:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17771060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: Dean has this thing. Anytime around Valentines Day he gets his hands on a heart, real or realistic, he goes for the same phrase. Sam just sighs and sends him a bitchface, but Sam has gotten sick, and Dean has put him in bed.So now Cas accompanies Dean on his hunt in a tiny Kansas town where people turn up dead with missing hearts. Seems open and shut, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nera_Solani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nera_Solani/gifts).



> Well. Another Late Night Discord Plotbunny. I don’t know how I keep getting these. I’m dropping this with Valentines Day just a little less than an hour off.  
> Check Tumblr for works with the tag #dcvday, if you feel the need for Valentine Destiel goodness!
> 
> I gift this one to Nera_Solani, because she helped me get this frikken idea! DANKE, Liebchen.

“Bloody Valentines day...” Sam grumbled, dabbing at his nose. “Every fucking year the weirdo’s come out to play on Halloween and Valentines. Why the Hell is that?”  
Dean shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe because horror and love are perfect covers for weird? Who will look twice at a zombie on Halloween? Or at over-the-top lovey things around Valentines? It’s only when that over-the-top gets really too weird, that people notice. Besides, this just looks like a werewolf. Missing hearts?”  
Sam rubbed his gritty eyes and coughed. “Well, as long as you don’t get near a real, or realistic, heart, I’m fine with it.”  
Sending him a faux-shocked glance, Dean blinked his eyes. “Now why would you say that?”  
Sam glared. “Remember? That time with the cupid?” he growled. Dean shuddered. “Oh man, don’t remind me. I still get the heebie-jeebies about that ‘handshake’.” He rubbed his arms over his middle as if to remove a stain.  
Sam tried his best to send a bitchface, but all he wanted was hot tea and his bed.  
“Then with the mannequins? The anatomy doll?” he persisted glumly. “And I can give you up to five more of those.” He sneezed.  
Face determined, Dean grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him away from the door to the police station. “Nuh-uh, buddy. You’re getting sick. You’re headed home,” he stated, protective big brother mode engaged. Sam wanted to argue, but his body rejoiced at the implication of a bed and sleep and... “Ok, Dean. But you stay on this. Get Cas.”  
Dean smiled warmly. “You know I will, right after I tuck you in and made you tomato and rice soup.” Sam sighed happily.

Three and a half hours later, Sam was fast asleep in his bed, in a blanket burrito, with a bowl containing the dregs of a helping of Dean’s famous soup on his night stand.  
“Cas,” Dean said in his phone. “Are you near the Bunker?”  
“Actually,” came the gravelly voice from both behind him and from his phone. “I am right here.”  
Reminded of that time in St. James Medical Center, Dean chuckled and ended the call. “Heya, buddy,” he grinned.  
“Hello, Dean,” Cas answered in his usual way. “Why are you here? I thought you’d left over six hours ago.”  
Dean shrugged. “Sam got sick. Nothing major!” he hastened to add, seeing Cas’ frown deepen in worry. “Just a cold, or the flu. Give him three days, and he’s right as rain.”  
Cas sighed. “So you just left, to come back,” he surmised. “Ok. I will heal him, and then you can...”  
Holding up his hands, Dean interrupted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up there, pal. Let Sam be sick. Ok? It builds immunity. It’s not threatening his life, just his dignity. Plus, doesn’t he deserve a bit of time off?” Dean cajoled, looking at Cas from under his lashes.  
Cas relaxed. “Of course he does, but so do you, Dean,” he said. Dean shrugged again. “Meh. I’ll be sick next time. In the meantime,” he moved on. “I need a partner on this hunt. Seems open and shut. Dead bodies, gnawed on, missing heart...”  
Nodding, Cas shrugged on his trenchcoat. “Werewolf,” he concluded. “And this case was in Hudson?”  
Dean nodded, a smile forming at the thought of a hunt with just Cas. He could teach Cas so much about hunting and humans, and Cas could teach him more angel stuff...  
“Yeah, but that town is literally the ass-end of nowhere, right? So motel, police, hospital, morgue... all half an hour off in Pratt.” Dean motioned his hands vaguely, but Cas got the gist. “So if Sam needs us, we can be back in three hours,” Cas stated, as if that fact cemented his decision to go with Dean.  
“Sweet,” Dean smiled. “I’ll leave Sam a note to say you came with, and then we’re off.”

oooOooo

“Agents Morrison and Krieger of the Wildlife Service. We’d like to see the victims of those animal attacks, please.”  
The coroner frowned at the ID Dean presented him with. “Huh. That must get you some remarks, huh?” he chuckled. “Imagine, having the same last names as two of the members of the Doors.” Shaking his head he waved them on. “This way, agents. I’m thinking bear or wolf, but I’m not done prepping, so I haven’t really started the autopsy yet.”  
He pulled out a drawer, and even Dean recoiled a bit. Bites were missing all over the victim, but mostly from the fleshy parts like the arms. Not much was left of stomach and chest.  
Clearing his throat to make his voice behave, Dean pointed at the victim. “He, uh, he was found like this?” he inquired, waving his finger around.  
“Yuppers,” the coroner replied cheerily. “Naked too, except for the loincloth. Pretty close to the homes too. Weird though,” he mused quietly. “We’re smack dab in the middle of all this farmland. I mean... not a forest in sight. Where would that animal have come from?”  
Dean shot Cas a glance, mouthing ‘smart guy’ and receiving one of Cas’ rare semi-smiles. The kind where his eyes crinkled, but only the left hand corner of his mouth curled up. Dean mentally high-fived himself for making that happen, because it never failed to warm his insides.

  
“Well,” Cas interrupted the coroner’s musing. “We cannot rule out rabid or feral dogs. That’s why we’re here, to determine what animal is wreaking havoc, and how we shall put an end to it.”  
The coroner nodded sagely. “I guess you guys have seen a lot of different bites, huh?” he guessed. Dean nodded sincerely. “You wouldn’t believe it...” he stated. The coroner rubbed the back of his head. “Could... uhm.. could you two manage by yourselves?” It sounded hesitant. “Only I need to do a requested autopsy on old Mrs. Henderson. The next of kin are squabbling about her will, and her son doesn’t believe she died of a coronary.” He pulled out another drawer, with an old lady on it. She was massive. “Yeah,” the coroner said wryly. “She ate nothing but fries, chicken nuggets and chocolate cake. I’m afraid that when I open her up, she will smell like a fast-food joint.”  
Cas bent over towards the old lady and subtly sniffed. “I smell nothing out of the ordinary. My guess is you will find she did indeed die of a massive heart failure.”  
Dean tried his hardest to not look at how Cas’ slacks spanned around his behind while he was examining the old lady. “Yeah,” the coroner smiled. “Thanks pal. Always good to have a second opinion.” He winked at them. “I’m taking the old girl to the other room. Give me a holler if you need a hand.”

As soon as the doors had swung shut behind him, Dean turned to Cas with raised eyebrows.  
“What did I tell you about sniffing corpses? It’s unsettling!”  
Cas did that head-tilt that Dean will deny he finds utterly adorable and yet sexy, until his dying day.  
“I just wanted to make sure, Dean,” Cas answered in that unfairly sincere tone. “If she had died by the hands of a djinn, I could have detected the poison, if it was a demon, the sulphur would have alerted me. But Marjory Henderson indeed died of heart failure. Most of her aorta was clogged, and the high levels of cholesterol I detected in her blood, indicated that it was a miracle she has lived this long.”  
Impressed, Dean smirked. “Never change, Cas,” he told his friend, patting his shoulder. If he kept his hand there longer than socially acceptable, meh, it was just the two of them there.  
With a tiny smirk, Cas inclined his head. “I will endeavour not to, Dean,” he replied. “Now, let us inspect the victims. My first impression is that these bites are not made by a werewolf. The dentures marks are too smooth. Almost human.”  
Dean felt his jaw tick, trying to suppress the rising bile.  
“Oh, _great_. So much for open and shut case... fucking awesome.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This ain’t right, Cas,” Dean frowned. “Look. The heart wasn’t ripped out... it was _cut_ out.” He reluctantly put his gloved hand in the gaping hole that was the stomach and moved it. The remaining flesh moved along and an almost surgically neat cut became visible from stomach right up through the diaphragm. Suppressing a shudder, Dean pulled back and used the gaping hole in the chest to search the chest cavity until he found what he wanted to show. He pulled up his hand, holding an artery. “See?” he pointed out. “Sliced neatly. I’m afraid you’re right. Not a werewolf.”  
Cas frowned in concentration as he obviously sifted through his mental catalogue of weird things that eat hearts. His deep blue eyes widened and his pink lips parted. Dean licked his own lips, trying to not glance at Cas’ lips too obviously. But wow, those were distracting him.  
“No,” Cas breathed. “Not again.” He looked disturbed, nauseated even.  
That shook Dean from his lip obsession. “What?” he asked, trepidation tingling down his spine. If Cas was unsettled, it was _bad_.  
Cas bent over again, casually presenting Dean with an A+ view of his butt. Dean nearly drooled. Cas sniffed, especially around the cut. Then he straightened and he cursed, which: Hello inappropriate shiver.  
“Damn!”

“Problem, Cas?” Dean wanted to know, except that he really didn’t, because things an angel finds problematic are usually God or Apocalypse-level problematic.  
Cas put his hand on Dean’s neck and pushed lightly, making him bend over like Cas had been. Dean had to bite his cheek to keep quiet.  
“Smell that?” Cas asked, his tone serious, with an undercurrent of worry.  
Dean sniffed lightly, trying to not get a nose full of three day old decomposition.  
“Is that... Sulphur?” he wondered. “Are you saying a demon did _this_? So not their usual shtick.”  
Cas’ hand pushed a tiny bit harder. “Try again. There is something different about the sulphuric smell.”  
Rolling his eyes and gulping, Dean took a deeper sniff. “It’s almost more... earthy?” he wavered.  
Apparently that was the right answer, because Cas removed his hand and was smiling with that proud little quirk to his mouth. “Exactly. Nothing demonic. Just flint.”

“Flint? You’re telling me that cut, that perfectly straight and sharp cut, was made by flint?” Dean marvelled.  
“Indeed,” Cas said, pulling off the nitrile gloves and chucking them. “More specifically, a flint knife.”  
Dean dropped his own gloves on Cas’ in the bin and gave him a disbelieving stare. “A flint _knife_? How in the world can that cut come from a stone implement?”  
Cas sighed. “Flint is exceptionally sharp, Dean. It was the first material knives were made from. Chip away in a certain fashion, and it takes an edge that makes even an Angelblade seem dull.”  
He smiled fondly. “Humans are such a resourceful species.”  
Scowling, Dean rubbed his mouth. “Yeah, frikken aces. We have found so many interesting ways to kill one another with everyday stuff. We’re amazing.”  
Cas shook his head, fondly patting Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t blame the inventors for what others choose to do with the things they thought up,” he rumbled. “Now for these bites...”  
Dean desperately wanted to not be there, he wanted to be in the motel, which was an exceptionally nice place for the prices they asked. Plus it was conveniently right next to the I-54.  
He wanted to lay on the bed next to Cas, watch one of those stupid shows Cas had discovered lately and not think about the fact that this was nowhere near an open-and-shut case anymore.  
“Dean?” Cas’ voice broke through his meandering thoughts. “Are you even listening?  
“Hm?” Dean snapped out of it. “Sorry bud. Mind went offline. What kind of Fugly are we fighting if the bites are non-werewolf?”  
“The worst, I fear, Dean,” Cas gravely stated, worry evident in his eyes. “Humans. But humans in a cult.”

“Cult?” Dean echoed sharply. “As in creepy mumbo-jumbo, we’re-killing-people-for-their-blood kind of cult?”  
Cas nodded, his sad, cerulean eyes trained on one of the bites on the arm. “I fear they are trying to summon a God.”  
Gut swirling, Dean turned around in a full-circle, wiping his mouth. “Fan-freaking-tastic. A God. When will people ever learn? What God can we expect to pop up?”  
Humming, Cas donned another pair of gloves and started poking around the bites, lifting arms, legs. He even went as far as checking the guy’s groin, carefully lifting penis and sack. Quickly, Dean turned away from that.  
“Dude, privacy?” he snapped, looking at the wall, ears tinged red.  
“He is deceased, Dean,” Cas merely answered. “He won’t mind, I’m sure. Hm... odd.”  
Crap. That was not a phrase Dean liked to hear from those pink lips.  
“What’s odd?” he dared to ask anxiously.  
Cas pouted a bit in thought. “If they are trying to summon this particular God, something is off.”  
Double crap. That one was even worse.

“Who do you think they are trying to lure over?” Dean delicately asked.  
Fingers trailing the precise cut in the diaphragm, Cas narrowed his eyes. “I believe it is Huitzilopoc, an Aztec God. But sacrifices to him usually had their limbs removed as well as their hearts.”  
Oh great. Anomalies in the ritual. Sure fire way to fuck things up and piss off the God.  
Cas kept talking, so Dean listened more.  
“The ritual cannibalism does indicate an Aztec God though,” Cas mused. “And as it is nearly spring, Huitzilopoc is the most logical choice, since he is their Sun-God.”  
Dean threw up his hands. “Oh great! How pissed is this guy gonna be that the rituals weren’t followed?”  
Cas covered the body with the sheet and pushed it back into the cooler. Then he took off the soiled gloves. “Well,” he stated dryly. “As Huitzilopoc is also a God of War, I fear his temperament might be... explosive.”  
Sighing, Dean closed his eyes. “Of course...” he groaned

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s phone buzzed, and he groaned. Picking it up meant crawling from his blanket-burrito, and he didn’t want to. On the other hand, his throat was parched and his mouth tasted foul.  
“Fine,” he groused, voice raspy and faint. “Looking at that won’t kill me.”  
He uncurled himself, finding that he actually felt better. Not ship-shape yet, but definitely more human than when Dean had tucked him in. He grabbed the predictable glass of water Dean had left on his night stand and chugged it. Then he picked up the phone to see who messaged him.

**Received: Dean.  
** **Sammy,**  
**Hope u stayed in bed and slept it out.**  
**Kinda need u to research. Not a werewolf.**

He’d attached a picture file and Sam opened it to find a bite-mark  
“Oh. EW!” He recoiled a bit. Those definitely were not werewolf teeth. They looked human. Gross.  
On one hand Sam was a bit bummed Dean had left him alone, because it wasn’t really ‘them’ to do so, but on the other hand, the case was only two and a half, three hours away. And maybe...  
His phone buzzed again.

**Received: Dean.  
** **So, Cas said the bites were human.**  
**U agree with him? Just to be sure.**

Ok, so Cas was with Dean. Sam smiled. This could be fun. He read the rest of the message.

**According to Cas, it could be humans trying 2 summon a God.  
Need research done on what happened 2 ❤️ offered to Huitziploc**

The sudden lapse into clipped tones told Sam Dean was hurrying his texting along, probably because they were talking to people and he needed to pay attention.  
But who in the worlds was Huitziploc?  
Another buzz.

**Received: Cas.  
** **Hello, Sam,**  
**Dean was asked to join the coroner.**  
**I fear the man might have noticed the human bites.**  
**cannibalism is sadly still practised, it seems.**  
**The cut to the heart area was made very specifically, and with a very distinctive tool.**  
**But other parts of the ritual have not been observed, and Dean seems to think it might anger Huitzilopoc.**  
**If he is right, we have a whole new set of problems.**  
**Do feel better.**

**Cas**

Sam smiled. Trust their angel pal to know which God responds to which summons.  
And now he had an actual, proper name to the thing. It sounded Aztec, or maybe Mayan.  
Stretching once again, Sam rolled his head around his shoulders and slumped.  
Right, time to hit the internet, and then the books. He tapped open a search window and dug into the lore.

oooOooo

Dean had just pulled his tie loose, when his phone rang.  
“Sammy! How’re you doing, bud?”  
The soft chuckling didn’t sound too congested, so Dean was hopeful.  
“I’m ok, Dean. Thanks,” his brother replied warmly. “I half expected you to let Cas just heal me up.”  
Casting a glance to where Cas was putting away his coat, Dean hummed.  
“Hm. Nah, better save up his Mojo a bit. You never know what’ll happen, right?”  
“That’s not...” Sam started, but stopped halfway through. “You know what? Fine. Let’s keep Cas fully charged. You’re right.”  
It sounded a bit recalcitrant, but Dean brushed it away. Ever since Heaven’s gates had been slammed shut, Cas had to use his Mojo sparingly, or be drained for a day at least. Sam might not have noticed, but Dean certainly had.  
“You find anything on that ziploc guy?” he changed the subject smoothly, toeing his shoes off and settling on the bed.  
He waved at Cas to come over, and patted the bed next to him.  
Putting Sam on speaker, he smiled at his angel friend, who smiled back softly as he sat down.  
“So get this...” Sam said, obviously in full research mode. “...the Aztecs were pretty gruesome in their religious sacrificing. I’m guessing you found an obsidian, or flint knife to match the cuts?”  
Remembering Cas bending over to sniff at the body, Dean licked his lips. “Actually, no,” he said, eyes flicking towards Cas. “Cas smelled the flint on the vic. It’s sulphuric, but with a more earthy tone than demons carry.”

“Huh,” Sam huffed. “Sounds like you two had fun.” Dean bit his lip not to laugh at how big Cas’ eye-roll was. “Yes, we had a blast, as Dean would say. What about the heart, Sam?” Cas grumbled.  
“Yes, well,” Sam picked up. “With the Aztecs, it was all about the heart. If this was indeed an offering to Huitzilopoc, the heart will have been removed via a cut through stomach and diaphragm, then, still beating, held up to the sun and placed in a bowl in the hands of a statue of the God. Find the statue, find the heart.”  
Goddamnit... these cults, and their bodily fluid and organ obsession.  
“Thank you, Sam,” Cas interrupted Deans inner rant. “But I fear the cult has not been as diligent as you in their research. To my knowledge, the sacrifice should have been dismembered before the actual cannibalism took place.”  
Stomach revolting, Dean shuddered. Gross, gross, _gross_!!  
“You’re right, Cas,” Sam agreed with a worried tone in his still raspy voice. “If they skipped that, who’s to say they have a statue to the guy? Shit, guys... be careful out there, ok? I haven’t found anything on killing this particular deity.”  
Of course. Dean rubbed his brow with a sigh. “Figures,” he groused. “You ok to stay on that, Sam?” Sam assured them he felt tonnes better and that researching wasn’t going to be a problem. “Good. Cas and I will stay here until you find something, deal?”  
Relief sounding through, Sam agreed happily. “I’m glad you see the need to stay safe, for once, Dean,” the little shit said, smile audible.  
Dean griped a little, but he echoed Sam’s smile anyway.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Dean...Dean!” Cas called softly. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes.  
He found himself on the bed, still fully dressed in his fed-suit, minus the jacket and shoes. His head was pillowed against Cas’ chest, and in his sleep dazed mind, he didn’t even care. He snuggled down, nuzzling the crook of Cas’ neck. “Hmnndon’wanna...” he grumbled. “Mmmmcomfy.” Cas chuckled low, slightly jostling Dean.  
“Ok, cuddle-bear. But Sam will call in about a minute,” he warned, voice warm and Dean could picture the sweet smile on his friend. Never much around the mouth, but all in the eyes.  
“Hmhm... ok,” he agreed, not moving. “Like y’r smile C’s.”  
More chuckles jostled him harder and he pinched his face.  
“How can you tell that I’m smiling with your eyes closed?” Cas wondered.  
“I c’n hear it... in y’r voice. Now lemme sleep,” Dean groused into Cas’ chest, enjoying the slight petrichor smell of his friend. “Y’ smell good. Comfy.” Fully content, Dean let sleep creep up on him again. Somewhere far away, he thought he felt a warm hand pet his hair softly, but he chalked it up to a starting dream.

A sharp knock, almost frantic, ruptured the peaceful drifting.  
Dean bolted upright, vaguely aware he could feel drool in the corner of his mouth. He wiped at it.  
Before he was fully awake, Cas was already at the door.  
Dean saw a wet spot on his shirt, right over his pect. Shit! He had been drooling on Cas!  
“Agents?” It sounded like the coroner, and Dean quickly ran his hand through his hair and swung his legs over the edge of the bed before nodding to Cas.  
The door opened on a spooked looking coroner.  
“Well, good morning to you, Mr. Whitmore. What brings you here so early?” Dean asked kindly.  
The coroner wrung his hands. “I... I just need to know. Was I right? Mr. Morrison? It wasn’t any animal, was it?”  
That was never a good sign. Nervous as fuck and questioning his earlier conclusion. Dean nodded at Cas, who had his blade out, if concealed behind him. How the fuck did he get that? Dean had always assumed he’d kept it in the sleeve of his coat, but in hindsight: he’d grabbed that sleeve so often, and he’d never felt the blade there. He shrugged it off to be asked later.  
“Come on in, Mr. Whitmore. I think we need to talk.”  
Cas closed the door behind the man and came to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

“You were right,” Dean started ‘the talk’. “Those were no animal bites. Sorry to say you have at least one human wanting the other, other white meat. Also known as ‘long pig’.” Cas frowned at that, but he let it slide, as the coroner had gone from a sickly grey to almost snow white in seconds. “C... cannibals?” Solemnly, Cas nodded, consolingly placing a hand on the guy’s knee. “I am afraid so,” he said in that gravelly voice, causing Dean to feel a little constricted around the chest. He’d grown so much in those 10 odd years since he’d waltzed up to Dean in that barn.  
“Yup, bud. Sorry,” Dean admitted. “You got some messed up people here. But if we nip this in the bud, that’s all you’ll have. And those, you can hand over to the law.”  
“Dean!” Cas chided, face scolding. “I do apologise for my partner, mr. Whitaker.”  
The coroner held up his hand. “Dave, please. And I think your partner was preparing me for something worse than cannibals. Am I right?”  
Impressed, Dean nodded. “Yeah. Sorry again. Look.” He ran his hand through his hair. This was never easy. “You might have guessed it, but Cas and I, not Wildlife Services. We’re what people who know call Hunters. We hunt the things that go ‘bump’ in the night. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, the frikken boogey man. And in this case, if our luck runs out: a God.”  
Dave looked close to dropping. “G..God? You’re gonna k...kill... God?”  
Amused, Dean glanced at Cas who looked both appalled and tempted.  
“Fuck, no. Chuck’s ok, for a deity. Shit Dad,” Another quick glance at Cas, who just narrowed his eyes in warning. “but an ok deity,” Dean quickly amended. “No, I mean a Pagan God. In this case, Aztec. I think someone here was fed up with the snow-pocalypse we’re having here, and is trying to summon the Aztec Sun God.”

After one more glare at Dean, who shrugged apologetically, Cas turned to Dave. “Dave,” he rumbled. “Pagan deities are prone to be on the violent side, with a hair-trigger. So if we can prevent the summoning, it is preferable.”  
Dave gaped at him.  
“He’s not wrong, Dave,” Dean agreed with Cas. “Last deity I ran into manipulated writers to ‘realising their vision’ and once that happened, she’d eat them. Named Calliope. Me and my brother ganked her just before she was about to eat a sweet teenaged girl called Marie.”  
Cas pushed his shoulder. “You killed Calliope? Why did I not know?”  
Dean rubbed his shoulder, because, clipped wings or no, Cas was still an angel and that push was probably harder than he intended. Besides, it was his trick shoulder. The one the mooks and villains always seemed to want to shoot.  
“Because,” he grumped. “That was just after my hot second of being a demon, and you were out trying to find a cure for that Mark. With all that happened since, I just haven’t come around to telling you.” Seeing the look on Cas’ face, Dean hastily amended. “But I will, promise.” Remembering Shioban and Kristen, he chuckled. “You’ll love it!”  
Cas’ face relaxed into another warm eye-smile. “I’m sure I will, Dean.”

A soft squeak reminded them of Dave, who was looking like a fish out of water, mouth working without sound, eyes big and round.  
“Sorry, Dave. Bit of history we need to clear. But we’re yours again.”  
Pointing between them, Dave squeaked again. “Bu..bubu... but... you said... demon?”  
“Oh,” Dean brushed it off. “Yeah. That happened, but just for a month or so. Cas and my brother, Sam, cured me. All human again.” He threw him a winning smile.  
Dave didn’t seem convinced. He nervously kept glancing between Cas and Dean.  
“Would it put your mind at ease if I said I am an angel?” Cas offered kindly. “I can see his soul, and it is as bright as ever.” Dean tried to ignore the heat crawling up his ears.  
Dave actually scoffed now. “Sure. Prove it!”  
Actually rolling his deep blue eyes, Cas pressed his fingers to Dave’s brow and frowned.  
When he let go, he looked, to Dean, as if he desperately needed a nap.  
Eyebrows hitting his hairline, Dave moved his shoulder around. “What the Hell? That has been frozen for _years_! How did you...”  
Chuckling, Dean patted the newly flexible shoulder. “Told ya: Angel. And he’s cute to boot!”  
Oh crap. Dean blushed crimson. Did he really just say that? Damn his mouth for running off without consulting his brain!  
Cas, on the other hand didn’t look angered, or confused. If Dean was any judge Cas looked.... damn pleased.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dave had finally accepted that things were weird, and Dean and Cas could stop them from getting weirder.  
“So,” Cas asked, hiking on leg onto the bed. “Why were you here this morning? You looked pretty scared.”  
Dave took a deep breath, and blew it out in one big huff. “Because the cops found a heart. In a bowl, behind the flour factory in Hudson. Hearing all this, I think it might be from our victim. But there’s something weird about it.”  
Grinning, Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “You came to the right fake agents, dude. Weird is our thing. Right, Cas?”  
Nodding, Cas winked at him. _He winked_! Dean nearly swooned at the cute adorkableness.  
“Can you let us have a look at the heart, Dave?” Cas wondered.  
“That’s what I wanted to ask you in the first place,” Dave admitted, relief radiating off him.

“Dean?” Cas asked one they were in the car, following Dave’s Mazda. Dean cast him a glance. “Yeah?” he answered.  
Cas fidgeted with his coat. “I... I... Ehm... so... you think I’m cute?”  
Heart making a bid for freedom right though his ribs, Dean tried to fight down his blush. Judging by the hotness in his ears, he was failing spectacularly. “Well, that’s to say... Ehm... y..yeah... I mean... look at you. The dark hair, with those amazing, blue eyes and... Well, y’know... your smile. It’s just... it’s cute.” He clenched his jaw, trying to stop his mouth from running off.  
Tilting his head in that adorable, bird-like way, Cas quirked up the left hand corner of his mouth.  
“Really? You think that?”  
Oh Chuck smite him now. How was he supposed to answer that?  
“Ppphhht... Yeah, well... not just me. I mean, Hannah liked you, and Meg thought you were hot.”  
Shrugging, Cas looked out the window, but Dean saw his reflection, and it looked sort of sad.  
“Meg,” Cas scoffed. “She couldn’t even remember my name. Kept calling me Clarence.”  
Dean stared at him. “You’re kidding me, right?” he asked, green eyes darting between Cas and the road. “Metatron updated you with all kinds of pop-references, and you didn’t pick up on that?”  
That got Cas to turn, but the look he gave Dean was a pure glare. He didn’t like to recall the sudden surge of information Metatron had shoved in his mind.  
“What do you mean?” he demanded in a harsh voice, making Dean cringe a little.  
“Just,” he tried. “... Clarence? It’s a wonderful life?”  
Cas gaped. “The second class angel? What? Why would she call me that?”  
Sighing, Dean shook his head. “Geez, Cas. It may have started as a sarcastic comment on your innocence and ignorance, but I personally think she thought you had shown her how wonderful life can be.” He shrugged. “But that’s just my interpretation.”

To his horror, Cas had moist eyes. “Hey, buddy... C’mon. I didn’t tell you this so you could go all misty eyed on me. I didn’t wanna hurt you!”  
Blinking, Cas bit his knuckle.  
“Cas, c’mon man... please. I’m sorry, ok?” Dean plead, panic rising like bile in the back of his throat.  
A dry sob shook Cas’ shoulders. “I don’t blame you, Dean,” he choked. “It’s just... I never knew... I could have been nicer to her...”  
That was it. Dean resolutely pulled Baby to the curb and shut her off. He turned towards Cas, face serious. “Cas, you can’t take the blame for that. She never told you outright. Sure, she flirted like mad, but she never just said it. How were you supposed to know?”  
Turning his teary, blue eyes up to Dean, Cas bit his lip. “You seemed to have noticed,” he whispered, before biting down again.  
Feeling his heart break at those deeply saddened puppy eyes, Dean gently put his thumb on Cas’ chin and softly pulled that lip free.  
“Don’t, Cas. You’ll ruin your lip. To my experience, some people flirt too obviously, and overshoot their goal. Her flirting was so over the top, you never took her serious enough to consider it being genuine.”  
Eyes wide, mouth agape, Cas trailed his fingers over his bottom lip.  
Licking his own lips, Dean tried to not stare at that pink, bite-swollen lip.  
“You ok there, bud?” he tried to cover his reaction.  
“I... I think I will be alright, Dean,” Cas smiled softly, cupping Dean’s cheek gently. “Thank you for caring.”  
Fighting his blush, Dean cleared his throat and turned back to start Baby again. “Anytime, Cas. Anytime.”

They followed Dave in, and he gestured at the examination table. “Knock yourselves out, guys. I’m not going near that thing if it can summon some weird ass ancient God. Noooo thanks!”  
He retreated quickly, mumbling about getting the blood-work on a guy who wrapped his truck around a tree.  
Dean shrugged at Cas and walked over to where the plastic tub stood.  
He frowned at it. It looked gross. All dried blood and congealed other shit. He shuddered. Icky Pagan Gods. Snapping on some nitrile gloves, he pulled the tub over. He picked the heart up, turning it over and over to see why Dave would find it weird. At first glance, he didn’t see much with all the yuck covering it, so he put it back and pulled Dave’s notes over. The date caught his eye. 2/14... His mind sparked with mischief.  
Glancing over at Cas, he noticed the angel standing near him with his usual lack of personal space. Dean didn’t mind anymore. He had gotten used to Cas standing so close, and to be perfectly honest, he kinda loved having him there.  
“Hey Cas,” Dean called with a smile. Cas tilted his head. “Be my Valentine?” Dean joked, holding out the heart.  
The curious look in Cas’ eyes softened, turned warm. Dean gulped.  
“Oh, Dean. That is so sweet,” Cas softly answered, taking Dean’s hand, still holding the heart, in his own. “I think we cannot keep the heart as memento... but I would love to be your Valentine.”

His brain went on static. The sweet smile, the warm eyes, the hand on his... Dean hardly heard the words Cas said, but he sure noticed Cas leaning in, his hand guiding Dean’s back to the tub and gently turning Dean’s hand over, so the heart flopped back in.  
“Y... you do?” he finally managed, voice weirdly high and squeaky.  
“Hmhm,” Cas hummed, leaning closer still. Oh Chuck. Oooooh damn... Cas looked like he was gonna kiss Dean... Dean licked his lips again, Cas’ blue eyes darting down to follow the tip darting out and back.  
Dean’s mind and heart were racing, and he gulped.  
Then Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s. They were soft... and warm, and..  
Dean darted his tongue out, tasting.  
They tasted amazing! Dean moaned low, as Cas growled against his mouth.  
“Dean...” The growled way Cas gasped his name, shot white-hot lust through Dean.  
“Dean...” Dean didn’t answer, just pressed his lips to Cas’ again, harder, wanting.  
Cas pushed him off easily. “Dean,” it sounded breathy and loving. “How long?” Cas demanded to know.  
Dean pulled back, even though he didn’t want to. “Way too long, Cas,” he panted, already trying to get back to those wonderful lips.  
Cas let him get in a soft kiss, then pushed him away again. His eyes were dark and his lips kiss-swollen, and Dean just wanted to get back there and kiss the breath out of him.  
“Dean,” Cas softly said. “We’re in a coroners office, working a case. Once we’re done here, we can get back to this. Agreed?” He looked so solemn and earnest, Dean wanted to kiss him again, but Cas easily held him at an arm’s length. “Agreed?” he pushed. “I promise we will continue. Just not here, with just the door between us and Dave.”  
Damnit. That made sense. Reluctantly, Dean nodded.

With great difficulty, he turned back to Dave’s notes and read further than the date. His brow furrowed, his nose scrunged up, and his mouth pulled down. “Oh. Ew. You’re joking...” he griped.  
“Cas, sunshine, could you rinse that thing off for me?” he asked, bending over the notes and waving a hand at the heart.  
“Of course, Dean,” Cas obliged and took the container.  
When he returned, his brow was creased too. “Dean... this has carvings on it,” he stated, placing the tub on the table again.  
Nodding, Dean pushed the notes over to Cas. “That’s what Dave said. Well, he noticed the lacerations, but hadn’t seen a pattern yet. I’m guessing the rinse job has made them show up fully. Right?”  
Picking the heart back up, Cas nodded. “Exactly.” He stepped right next to Dean, arms touching as he pointed.  
“See? Here, and here, and there... my guess is they carved the summoning hieroglyphs in the heart, and not in the Earth.”  
Dean watched more closely, and he had to admit that those scratches sure looked like Aztec writing. “You can read ancient Aztec as well?” he marvelled. “Fuck Cas. Not only cute and a great kisser, but smart as can be too.”  
Cas blushed adorably, but shoved him anyway. “The case, Dean,” he admonished.  
Dean grinned.

Suddenly, a stray thought had him gasp. “Cas, that’s another mess up in the ritual! How slim are the odds we will not get a pissed off Aztec deity knocking down our door?”  
Pecking a kiss on his cheek, Cas put a reassuring hand on Dean’s sleeve.  
“I think we are safe, Dean,” he rumbled softly, nuzzling the hair above Dean’s ear. “This many fouls in a ritual? Not a deity in any of the planes will show. I think that’s why there are multiple victims. Every time they did not succeed in summoning Huitzilopoc, they got another sacrifice.”  
Leaning his head against Cas’, Dean exhaled loudly. “Damn. I’m not sure whether to be glad they failed, or disgusted that they kept trying...”  
Another soft kiss, to his temple this time. “Why not both?” Cas mused.  
Dean grinned. Why not both indeed.  
He smiled and pecked a kiss on Cas’ nose. “Absolutely right, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s tell Dave. Bet he’d be glad to know he won’t be getting any more ‘animal attack’ victims.”  
Cas hummed assent.


	6. Chapter 6

Dave was pleased as punch to hear that the markings were real, but wouldn’t call over a pissed off Aztec God. “But we’re not in the clear yet, fellas,” he said, eyes shrewdly narrowing. “We don’t know who our Aztec loving perp actually is.”  
That pushed any thoughts of kissing Cas silly once they were back at the motel, far on the back-burner. “Damnit. He’s right. We still need to get our guy, Cas.” He turned around to Dave. “Bud, we need everything on this case, dates, times, places the vics turned up... everything and anything you have.”  
Dave saluted him smartly. “Will do, bucko,” he quipped, turned and left.  
Soon enough he came back with a manilla folder. “I copied it all, because that way the files won’t be compromised. You want some room here, or are you going back to the motel?”  
Shooting Cas a quick glance from under his lashes, Dean cleared his throat. “I.. Ehm... we... we’ll head back I think. Right, Cas?”  
Humming, Cas nodded severely. “Yes. I think that might be the wisest course of action here. People might overhear us in here, and we will not be able to discuss this without using unnecessary subterfuge.”  
Chuck Almighty, did Dean love this guy with all his adorable dorkyness and his smart brain.  
Dave just shrugged. “Alrighty then. Just get the guy before he chops up another innocent person.”  
That was not an unreasonable request. “Sure thing, pal. We’ll go now, and get the guy before tomorrow!”  
Looking pleased as punch, Dave nodded once. “That would be great. Thanks.” He turned to go, but looked over his shoulder once. “Oh, right. I almost forgot. Happy Valentines day, fellas!” he called back, winked, and was gone.

Dean couldn’t remember a time he’d raced back to a motel so quickly, without either his, Sam’s or Cas’ life in the balance.  
He’d surmised the whole case in a text to Sam, who agreed to call in an hour so they could brainstorm.  
The whole 5 minute drive back to the Boutique motel, Dean kept glancing at Cas, who kept glancing back and licking his goddamn, pink lips.  
Dean parked Baby, grabbed the keys to the room and made his way inside, Cas hot on his tail with the manilla folder clenched in his fist.  
As soon as the door closed on the angel, Dean turned around and pushed him against it, kissing him like it was how he breathed.  
“Hm... Cas. Cas... uhn. So... so good,” he kept saying between kisses. Cas gave as good as he got, and he worked those slender hands under Dean’s flannel, starting to work it off.  
“Dean,” he groaned. “Dean... do.. do you really want this?”  
Dean didn’t answer, just slipped his tongue between those luscious lips and asked for entrance.  
Cas moaned darkly and opened right up.  
It was bliss, joy and coming home in one, messy, sloppy kiss.  
Vaguely, Dean noticed his hands, popping buttons on Cas’ shirt, and Cas, pressing his torso against Dean’s inquisitive fingers.  
Oh heck, they were going _there_! Oh _hells_ yeah!

Dean shoved the shirt off and started sucking marks on every stretch of skin available to his hungry mouth.  
Cas arched up against him with a gasp.  
“Dean!” Dean smirked against his chest. “Yeah, Honeybee?”  
Cas shivered. “Oh Dad! Please... say it again!” he panted.  
“What, Honeybee?” Dean teased, having a pretty good idea of what Cas meant.  
Cas moaned and pulled him in for another searing kiss. “That, Dean. That.”  
“Ohhhh,” Dean grinned. “You like that nickname, huh? Honeybee?”  
Groaning, Cas latched on to Dean’s mouth and ravished it.  
The buzz of a phone broke through the warm, lustful haze.  
“Fuck... hmnn... Cas?” Dean tried breaking free, but the angel was rubbing delicious circles over Dean’s nipples and he had to bite his lip to not moan loudly.  
Grabbing both of Cas’ hands, Dean pulled away. “Sweetheart, my phone...”  
Cas growled. “Fuck it. I want you, Dean.”  
Gut tightening, Dean fought himself. “I know, bud... me too, but... Sam. He’ll call soon... best not sound like we’re having or have had sex. Might turn a bit awkward.”  
Pulling him in roughly, Cas growled in he back of his throat, and then bit down on the tendon in Dean’s neck, making Dean almost black out with the intense pleasure.  
“Fine,” Cas grumbled. “We should review the case anyway. See if we can get any leads before there’s another victim to mourn.”  
A bit out of breath, Dean chuckled. “Yeah... shit, Cas. I love how you pop from horny to business like that.”  
That got him a side-eye. “Doesn’t mean I stopped wanting you, Dean,” Cas stated, making Dean shiver at the implications.  
He quickly grabbed his phone to see who sent him a message.

 **Received: Sam.**  
**Hey.**  
**You’re probably driving, but I just wanted to say you’re probably ok.**  
**The Aztec Gods usually only replied when rituals were performed to the T.**  
**Just to be safe, I’m headed out there. Three heads and such...**  
**Just passed Great Bend, having a quick pit-stop at Saint John. Be there in 45 to an hour.**  
**Sam.**

“Fuck. He’s coming over!” Dean panicked, eyes darting over to Cas, who looked deliciously rumpled.  
Cas raised his one eyebrow and, Holy mother, did it do things to Dean.  
“It seems he has recovered swiftly. We’d better make sure we’re cleaned up. I am not particularly inclined to hide this, but just shoving it in his face like that, might be unsettling for Sam.”  
Dean breathed deeply. Cas was right, of course. They wouldn’t hide, what was there to hide for? But Sam might not appreciate it if he stepped into the room and found them _in flagrante delicto_.  
Heck, _Dean_ would not like it if that happened.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my lovelies, the End. The stubborn idjets have seen the light, all we need now, is to wrap up the case.  
> Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos and commenting.  
> Every notification really lit my heart.  
> Love you all!

When he knocked on the door and Dean opened it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Sam could almost taste something brewing. There was a certain... tension between Dean and Cas. Other than the inescapable UST Sam had gotten used to over the last decade.  
“Are you guys ok?” he asked tentatively.  
Cas glanced at Dean, who inexplicably started chuckling, cheeks red. That made Cas duck his head and smile too. Something was way off with those two.  
“What the Hell, guys? Are you pranking me?” Sam demanded to know.  
Blinking, Cas deadpanned. “Why would you say that, Sam? That would be counter productive.”  
Annoyed, Sam threw his bag on one of the beds and sat down. “Fuck you both. I just drove three hours to come help, and now you’re being weird.”  
Dean heaved a big sigh and pulled up a folder of paperwork.  
“No, we’re not being weird, Sammy. Just happy,” he stated in an offhand manner that just made Sam even more suspicious.  
“Wha... you know what, Dean? Screw you, I am really not in the...” His voice tapered off when he really looked at his brother and angel friend. “Oh, wait... what? Really? Finally? You two...?”  
They both just smiled warmly and stepped into each-other’s personal space, arms wrapping around waists and shoulders.  
Sam burst out laughing, and threw himself on the bed behind him.  
“Oh my God! Finally! Took you long enough, you dim assholes!” he cried out, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his brow.  
The cluck of Dean’s tongue had him look up.  
His brother had his arms crossed and his head tilted in that faux-patient way that told Sam he’d better get his act together.  
“Sorry, sorry guys. I’ll leave my gloating to be done in private. I’ll just say this and be done with it. Congrats on finally getting your heads out of your asses and smooch. Keep it PG for my sake, go nuts once you’re alone.”  
Dean nodded with that pout he makes when agreeing on something.  
“Fair enough, Sasquatch. So, about the case...”

oooOooo

It seemed Dean’s earlier assumption that somebody was fed up with the Snow-pocalypse, was pretty dead-on. All signs pointed to two or three farmers in and around Hudson playing ‘summon the Sun-god’. Feeling a good scolding might be more effective than an arrest, Dean hatched a plan.  
So the next morning Cas thawed out a big portion of snow, right in the middle of an empty acre of one of the farmers. Sam, being the tallest and most imposing, was waiting inside that circle of soggy farmland.  
Dean had outdone himself with flirting his way through the drama department at the local high-school.  
The robes from their rendition of The Emperor’s New Groove were a bit tight around Sam’s shoulders, but luckily it was mostly loose, slip-on tunics and layers of fabric, draped over each-other. He looked pretty impressive, Dean thought.  
“ _You ready, Honeybee?_ ” he prayed at Cas, whilst crouching low behind some shrubs that were under the line of trees, next to the road where Baby was hidden around a corner.  
Instantly a minor pressure built in his head, and Cas’ voice rang in his mind. He sounded pissed.  
“ _For the love of... Dean! Stop that! I need to concentrate!_ ” Cas snarled.  
For a second, Dean was confused, but then he realised he’d used the nickname, and it probably still made Cas shiver. AWESOME. But on the other hand: Cas did have a point in needing his wits about...  
“ _Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to,_ ” he replied meekly.  
Cas didn’t answer, but a warm feeling spread across Dean’s shoulders and the ghost of a kiss pressed itself to Dean’s temple. It was all he got, but for now it was enough.  
“ _Get ready, Dean. The farmer is headed this way._ ” Cas informed him.  
For however useful this form of communication was, Dean would be happy to never use it again. It made him feel invaded, and not in a sexy way.

A mediocre, middle aged guy was carefully approaching Sam, who looked regally down on him, his feathered crown giving off the impression of being a whole entity in and of itself.  
“Why have you summoned me?” Sam roared, and the little hex-bag with a voice amplification spell they’d given him worked perfectly.  
The farmer cringed, hands over his head. “A..are you... Huitzilopoc?” he stammered.  
Sam levelled him a bitchface fit for a God. “Who else would answer a summons like that, even one as sloppy as yours?” The voice enhancement made the disdain even better audible.  
Dropping to his knees, the farmer took on a pose of worship, but his tone of voice was smug and commanding, just as they’d expected. People who summon Gods usually have a very high opinion of what they’re entitled to.  
“Good,” the guy stated. “So, as Sun-God, you should now thaw out the Midwest and bring a balmy spring and pleasant, if not too dry, summer.  
Looking down his nose at the guy, Sam merely raised an eyebrow.  
“And why would I even consider doing anything of the likes?” he drawled.  
The farmer indignantly rose, trying to stare Sam down.  
“Because I said so,” he barked. Dean shook his head. If Sam really had been Huitzilopoc, that guy would have been toast. Now Sam blinked once.  
“Really. You are very brave, to try and force me to do anything,” Sam mocked and the rumble of the deep tones made the actual ground tremble a bit.  
“I summoned you!” the farmer yelled, fists balled. “You do as I tell you!”  
Sam actually smirked sarcastically and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You did summon me, but as I said, sloppy job. You helped me manifest, that is true, and that is the only reason you’re not dead.” He pointed an accusing finger at him, then levelled it to the right, lining his index up with a dead tree, a couple of hundred yards off.

Dean knew Cas was there, all part of the plan, but he still jumped a little when the tree glowed blue and exploded.  
“And since I am here now, I can summon my minions!” Sam exclaimed loudly, making the very trees shake.  
This was it. This was where Dean came in. He felt warm arms around him and suddenly the world looked like a watercolour painting, all blotchy colours and vague lines. The only thing solid, was Cas, who was holding him pressed against his chest. “Heya, sweet cheeks,” Dean quipped as they started moving.  
Sam’s voice came through clear as a bell, as he uttered some random Enochian words Cas had rehearsed with him. Dean chuckled when he remembered.  
“Wasn’t that: horse, tree, fiddler crab?” he whispered in Cas’ ear.  
“Shush, Dean. We’ll wait until he says ‘fly’, then I will let you out of the invisible bubble.”

The farmer was petrified, his wide open eyes darting between the tree and Sam, who kept up his Enochian. “Esiasacahe, Zodiladare!” he called, loud enough to let the trees lose a few leaves.  
Cas kissed Dean on the head and let him go.  
Dean fell to his knees, pressing his brow to the ground, to hide his wide grin.  
“Master! Thank you for freeing me!” he grovelled, glancing up at Sam, who looked down on him with a warm smile.  
“Ah, Esiasacahe! I am glad you are free. Shall we?” He offered Dean a hand up, and the farmer looked at him with a terrified expression. “I...is he your... mi...minion?” he stuttered, trying to back away slowly.  
Sam snapped his head around to him, and Dean threw him his most menacing grin.  
“Oh, master!” he cooed. “Can I start with that one?” He licked his canines for effect.  
Sam put a hand on his chest, holding him back. “No. Sadly, he is the one who summoned me. Him and two others. Since we owe them our freedom, they shall be safe. The rest is free lunch, dearest.”  
Dean made a show of pouting in protest, scuffing the toe of his sandal in the dirt. (Yeah, sandals in February! They were so lucky Cas could warm up a meadow’s worth of air for two hours on end.) “Aw, master. Are you certain I cannot eat his heart?”  
Sam deadpanned, but Dean saw the amused twinkle in his hazel eyes. “Very, my pet. But only the three. You may feast on beating hearts all you want. Just leave the really innocent ones for me.”  
Dean grinned wickedly and made to leave. That jolted the farmer back to life. “Wait! What? Buhbuh...buhbeating hea... hearts? You... you can’t! That’s now how this was supposed to be!”  
Imperiously, Sam stared him down. “You messed up the incantation, the sigils and the procedure. I shall not listen to you. I have no compulsion whatsoever to do that. Come, beloved minion, we shall go and have a feast.”

That was Cas’ cue and he popped up, thunder sounding, wing-shadows flared. An impressive sight, even while the wings were visibly injured.  
“NO!” he bellowed and he let his true voice ring though a bit. “You shall not destroy another country! It is over! Your time has passed!”  
The farmer dropped, hands to his ears, whimpering. “Who are you?” he wailed.  
Cas aimed his dark-blue, laser-stare at him and Dean was forcibly reminded of the stoic angel-of-the-lord that had walked into that barn so long ago. Thank Chuck he wasn’t like that anymore.  
“I am a Seraph. An angel. And I shall banish these cretins back to the dimension they came from.”  
He grabbed Sam by his arm, and Dean around his waist, effortlessly lifting him like a stubborn child. “And then, John Alberts, I shall deal with you!”  
The world went watercolour-vague again and they quickly made their way to the trees, Cas holding both their hands. Once they were under cover, Cas let them go and kissed Dean on the nose before heading back towards farmer Alberts.

“That was tooth-rottingly sweet,” Sam snarked with a grin, pulling off his head-dress. “I hope you’re not going to go all lovey-dovey all the time now.”  
Dean smacked him upside the back of his head, making the majestic Moose-mane fly askew.  
“Shut up, bitch,” he groused, quickly taking off his sandals and tunic and donning his regular clothing. Sam chuckled as he too switched clothes. “Make me, jerk. I owe you and Cas at least a month worth of teasing, after the years of mutual pining and UST.”  
Dean folded up the Aztec costume and carefully placed it in Baby’s trunk. “U.S. what now?”  
Sam was lacing up the kayaks he called boots, and grinned. “U. S. T. Unresolved, Sexual, Tension. You two have been pining and lusting after one another for ages.”  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Seriously?” he groused. “ _We_ only just figured this out. How can you...” but Sam interrupted him with a scoff. “Dude. You two are the _last_ _ones_ to figure this one out. Get over it already.”  
He pulled out his cellphone and thumbed through it, suddenly showing Dean a chat window.

Mom: they were BAD today, weren’t they?

Sam: Oh mom. You sweet, innocent one.  
That’s nothing.  
Just wait until one of them dies or vanishes  
and comes back.

Mom: you’re JOKING!

Sam: Sadly, no.  
The time Cas was in the Empty,  
the time Dean was a demon...  
Those were bad times.

Mom: aw. My boys...  
I hate to think they were hurting so bad. 😢

Sam: But when they were reunited...  
I still have nightmares.  
Such denial, such repressing...  
Especially with Dean.

Mom: I sincerely hope to never experience that.

Sam: We should rename Dean.  
Deanachamon, king of Denial. 😜

Mom: 🤣🤣

  
Dean shoved the phone back at Sam. “Jesus Christ! I’m glad you got a good laugh out of us.”  
Sam pocketed his phone, unexpectedly sober. “We didn’t, Dean. We all were rooting for you to figure it out. And I’m sure mom and Jody and Donna and Garth will all be very happy for you. If Gabriel was still with us, he’d be pulling out the champagne and strawberries.” He fell silent for a moment, then, with a wicked smirk: “and the chocolate bodypaint!”  
Dean threw a sandal at him, as he ducked, laughing gleefully.

 


End file.
